After The War
by ChronicallyinFlaming
Summary: Written for the mass effect kink meme. Shepard and Liara finally get together after the war against the Reapers has been won.


**The Prompt:** **"FemShep/Liara"**

_**Basically what I'd like to see is the two of them getting together after the war (including the process of how it happened if possible). Whether they loved/liked each other before the end of the war is up to the lovely person who decides to write this prompt. I don't think this has been done before, if it has I apologise and kindly ask for a link to the story. Smut is optional but very welcome.**_

**The Fill:**

* * *

"If you pick me up right now." Shepard, yes, it was Shepard's voice, set lower than normal. "You can do whatever you want to me."

Even and determined.

Had Liara not been exhausted from two days of sitting before screens, emptying cups of coffee, and watching endless feeds of minutiae, she might have summoned up something better to say. Something along the lines of, have you lost your mind, is that you Shepard, is someone holding a gun to your head and making you say these things, did you hit your head again and become convinced you were actually a male by the name of _John _Shepard and that Cerberus had simply gotten their rebuilding of you terribly wrong?

Instead, she was _tired_, and slowly incredulous. Sure that Shepard had called the wrong person and this would be an embarrassing moment they might laugh about in the morning. Liara would make a short joke about it tomorrow, when she saw the Commander again, and then let it drift safely from her mind. Like so much else. An awkward breakfast rather than their usual ease as they sat across from each other, talking of repair, mercenary troops, families and friends, and Shepard spreading too much jam onto her latest pastry.

Given how often Shepard called her, it couldn't have been too odd that she had slipped up and contacted the wrong person. Muscle memory taking over at this late hour. Never mind who Shepard had really meant to call; it was none of Liara's business.

Something was beeping gently, dangerously, informing Liara that a map to a certain location had been sent to show her the way.

"I have no credits. But I will find a way to pay you back."

The bright thing would have been to send a cab or an agent to pick her up. Her own father. Half-sisters she hardly knew and were so foreword when it came to introducing themselves, so like their own mother. Even, her, the half-sibling Liara refused to think about for too long, even calling her all the way on Omega and telling _her _to retrieve Shepard would have been a smarter thing to do right now. Didn't _she_, after all, have more experience with an unexpectedly intoxicated Commander?

Just sitting here, looking at the clock ticking by another minute until Shepard thought the connection had been severed, that would have been less self-destructive.

No, Liara. Don't.

Instead, Liara found the words coming out of her mouth were: "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

Horrible.

_Horrible._

Why had she done that to herself? To Shepard, to put the Commander through another awkward moment of having to reject the asari and assure her that they were only friends. It would hurt, the truth of that, and the Commander's sincerity. No, she would not say anything, not put Shepard in that position again, and she can almost hear Aethyta's snickering at that word, '_position_,' and making those little comments.

'No, we are not living together and she did not spend the night—in my bed. Or on the floor, why would she? She slept on the couch. Upset at her? Oh, Father, no, it was not _sexual_.' While behind her Jane was still in socks and pouring cereal, looking amused. And perfect, considering her hair hadn't yet been combed and she had yet to see the inside of the shower. Her friend, close and safe, healing, and still completely uninterested in Liara as a romantic partner. Or anyone else, for that matter, as far as Liara knew—and she knew quite a bit about Shepard's life.

Not that she was 'obsessed,' as her second parent had once brought up while insisting on questioning Liara about her life on Thessia.

She must have spent five minutes just writhing at her cluttered desk. Cursing herself, Shepard, the universe, her father. All while trying to put on her white overcoat that had served her so well in the past. Lucky to not tip over her mug of stale coffee as she attempted to re-listen to the call, for any signs in the background of gun fire or something besides bad music.

Why had she said that? When it was so obvious that it wasn't…and if it was, if it _had_ been a genuine offer to her and not a genuine _mistake_ on Shepard's part, why had she—what exactly had Shepard offered?

Oh, Goddess.

Perhaps it was only a trap. Another murder attempt, as old enemies seeking vengeance made another move. That Liara could deal with. Play the entire thing off. Yes, Shepard, of course I knew it was a secret message to help you. Oh, stop it. You never drink to excess, aside from a few very brief times. Shut up, I knew it was code. Next time, I will just leave you to your captors then!

Because we're friends and… hadn't Aethyta said something about, what had it been, 'panties catching on fire.' Someone might be using Shepard to get to her, rather than the other way around. That was how obvious it was, even now. And Liara had been so sure she had moved on, was completely passed that to the point where no one would tease her as they had done onboard the first Normandy when she'd been a complete foolish nervous _wreck_. Terrified of ruining the entire thing, especially in front of the intriguing, forgiving Commander who sat through so many awkward conversations with Liara who alternated between talking too much about the irrelevant and implying that she wanted to dissect Shepard.

Goddess, so many moments were coming back in a rush of humiliation. Like that party based on an Earth holiday where they'd hung plastic sprigs of some plants and whoever under it would act as though contractually obligated to kiss—her heart had_ stopped_ when finding herself under it with a polite Commander that had been nothing but professional about that light kiss. All but throwing herself at Shepard, with those melds and nearly squirming in her seat whenever the spectre would check on her.

Could Jane had only been literal? Fallen and could not get up. I'll give you all my model ships if you pick me up from this gutter. You know how lost I get in new places.

Alas, it must be a trap. Not one laid with bait that she could have expected however.

But it was one that she had known was there, perhaps set out since the day Shepard had saved her from that Prothean dig site. Since she had seen Shepard out of armor and noticed the length of fingers and musculature of her arms. Faint hair that had later made it impossible for her to eat that Earth fruit, peaches, when it had been offered to her on the Normandy.

She stood there outside the crowded bar, a maiden asari all in white, wondering if her expression was as terrified as it felt.

Inside, there should be bodies and pockmarks on the walls and remaining furniture from gunfire. Mercenaries swarming. Enemies and danger and a gun held to the Commander's head as she stared on, determined and brave. Soon, they would all get theirs and regret ever thinking they of all people could be the ones to defeat Shepard. Liara would save her, and they would later make jokes about it over Thessian takeout that Jane insisted she was not allergic to. She held the hope of another gunfight close to her chest as she stepped inside.

Liara could have cursed the cheerful faces inside and lively music that was completely audible rather than muffled by screams of pain and blasters. Why were there not more lifeless bodies clogging the spaces between tables?

Why had Liara chosen this armor of all things, when white stuck out and she was getting looks and, why had she not left Shepard here rather than play along with this cruel joke? Go back to her loft and stew and then forgive the Commander when she stopped by with a gift of another book. They were _friends,_ and this was just part of that. Part of Shepard now, to play stupid ridiculous pranks on people as she acted like the war had never happened. This woman that saw nothing wrong with putting shaving cream around people's door frames, running a safe distance away, and then yelling for help. All while recording it.

When she saw Jane, she would be polite but firm and inform the human that she had been more ridiculous than normal and Liara had been concerned. That's why she had gotten here in record time, even her with mild psychological breakdown and brief loss of her boots under the desk: out of fear.

She had expected Shepard to be swarmed with fans, but maybe the novelty had finally, finally, worn off.

"Have you seen Jane Shepard?"

They had only to point the way.

Hard to miss her, in those blues, with that shock of red hair. Holding a glass, drunk, and still with not a scuff on her shoes. With admirers that laughed and hung on her every word as she made a dismaying swooshing motion with her hands, and Liara knew with certainty what she was describing and could have cheerfully left Jane to walk home.

If not for the hazy look in her eyes that disappeared when spotting Liara.

The soldier turned diplomat that was now here to stabilize the Asari-Alliance joint rebuilding mission. 'Now I try not to sneeze at the wrong time so I don't start a war. I guess that's better than having to end them. At least I don't have to shoot anyone, usually.'

That smile.

'And I get to spend more time with my friends.'

How badly had things gone, where she was now getting plastered in a bar and calling friends to harass them? Was this a depressive streak, or was she drinking in celebration? How many glasses, exactly, were there on that table? Liara tried to count them and estimate how many had been emptied by the spectre. None of this was like her, even this new forcibly cheerful woman that still wanted to help everyone.

Shepard had enough energy to launch herself off that bar stool. "Liara!"

"Commander."

Always. No matter how many metals she turned away or the loss of the Normandy. Or how close she would get, really invading personal space to stare at you with large, needful eyes. "Can you buy me a drink?"

"I don't think you need any more alcohol, Commander."

"It's different this time. Me and Jack haven't overturned any tables. Miranda didn't need to get us from jail."

"Jack isn't here. Is she?"

Perhaps the others had made a quick stop here. That would explain the alcohol. Jack would be vomiting up something lethal in the bathroom and Tali and Garrus would be flirting at the bar. Miranda must have given up with Shepard and Jack and had either left or found a private corner to drink in peace. They would all be here to help Jane home, and any second would come up to greet Liara.

If the others wanted to know the exact details of the message Shepard had sent, Liara would play the entire thing off while discretely deleting it off her omni-tool.

"I wish!" Her arms went up, then nearly ended up around Liara's waist. Despite being more than a few centimeters taller than Shepard, Liara felt _dwarfed_. "Now buy me a drink."

Not once had Liara ever felt the need to push the Commander away. "Shepard. Why don't you have any money?"

"I spent it all making it _raaaiiin_!"

"…Are you ready to leave now?"

"I was on stage. Performing karaoke. You outta know. And then that song, you know, the blue song. It came on, and that part about having a blue girlfriend came on. I thought of you. _Liara."_

Even in the darkness, the flashing lights, you could see the green of her eyes. Liara could have lost herself in them, regardless of the people surrounding them. If only she weren't drunk…if only Liara didn't get intoxicated herself by her presence. Hands touching her, her armor, shaking her slightly for emphasis, looking more than a little deranged. For this, she had come all this way and left her cozy flat, important work and possibly her front door unlocked.

"Take me home with you."

"Of course I will. Since you've most likely lost your keys _again_. You should be used to sleeping on my couch."

"I want to sleep on _your bed_—"

Liara straightened her coat, pulling the edges from Jane's limp fingers. "We've had this discussion before. I do not want to make a fort with you. Not at this hour."

"_I want to sleep with you_."

"Fine then, we can share the bed."

Of course Shepard will steal the blankets again, and it would be uncomfortable to lie there next to her and feel the warmth and hear the deep pull of every breath. At least it meant Jane was alright, and if she did wake up to a warm head resting between her shoulder blades, Liara could live with that. Oh, yes, she could feign a deep sleep and ignore her second parent's knowing look when a groggy Jane stumbled into the living room and asked where the eggs were.

When had she become the responsible adult looking out for the foolish soldier?

"So long as we leave, and find you some coffee. I won't hire a cab, either."

Shepard looked far too heart-broken.

Liara felt an unwanted, unnecessary twinge of guilt. She would end up half-dragging/carrying her friend before the night was out, and when morning came she would play off the muscle spasms. "The long walk will help sober you up."

"Don't you get it? I want to _fuck_ you!"

All the muscles in Liara's arms disappeared. Almost instantly, she could feel a prickling heat on her neck, rising to her cheeks. It threatened to blind, should she allow it to continue. The asari wanted to repeat the words Shepard had just shouted, if only to herself, but could not. "What?"

"Ever since we met! As soon as I saw you, when you were trapped in some perverted prothean bondage thing. No, that's what it was. I don't _care_ what Javik said.

"When I heard your voice for the first time. How I constantly visited you, remember I kept asking about your Dad? Like I really cared when I asked you about it the third time. All that_ melding we did." _

Oh, by the Goddess, people were staring.

"I know you feel the same way. The tension couldn't all be in my head. You care for me, I know that. All the stuff you did to get my body. When I was dead. You kept my armor. That has to be a sign you care."

You could drown in those green eyes. Gladly. Forget you were standing in a crowded bar, being propositioned by your best friend you would do anything for and that you had always hoped for this moment. Almost forget that they had an audience and the already existing rumors would just be confirmed.

"I think we'd be good together, Liara."

"Shepard. I didn't think, not that I—I mean. I could see how…"

"I'm sorry. No pressure." But she looked like Liara had seen her only a handful of times before. When someone, usually Grunt, had kicked her in the stomach. During the time she had attempted to teach the crew 'rugby.' Or Wrex, crashing into her, that time the humans had foolishly, optimistically, taken the aliens onto a 'skating rink.' Her attempt at trying to settle Jack and Miranda into a relationship and their quick realization Shepard's plot. That face, so traumatized, and just waiting for the pain to hit.

"No, no— "

"I _knew _it. Nothing _good _ever happens to_ me_. No, all I get is crap. Crap and death. And batarians trying to kill me."

"I can tell you that I like you a lot too, Shepard. And I'd like it very much." If we.

If.

We.

Liara could have run out of the bar. Made a bigger fool of herself, and forgotten the last few years of growth and maturity. Let her remember where she kept the anxiety pills. What had she even agreed to? What had Shepard been saying? How much of this could be taken seriously? Would she even remember this, tomorrow? Perhaps she should begin drinking as well.

We were both drunk, and thus, nothing counted and nothing important was ever said between them, it was the alcohol's fault and—and…you're smiling.

Manic relief on that face. Yet still not as bowled over as Liara felt. "I would too!"

That ridiculous grin.

She had done so much for the sake of those teeth flashed in her direction. Would fight the war again and again. They were both alive, whole, and they had _survived._

"We should go dancing."

Because that had gone so well the last time. Though, at least the Commander had a sense of humor at all her friends laughing.

We.

And Liara let herself be dragged around again by Shepard.

Everyone had to be staring. At both of them. Perhaps envious of Liara for being so close to the Commander. Were her hands shaking? Did Jane notice? All they were doing was jumping up and down surrounded by humanity that did the same, all commanded by some animal instinct of music that gave them orders. It could be this easy, this simple. The floor was going to break from beneath them any second. All this weight. Even the dancing was such that the Commander could do without attracted pity. Liara's own smile was disappearing, and there were too many teeth in Jane's mouth being exposed.

On the dance floor, making an ass out of herself.

With Shepard's hands on her.

On her ass.

Aethyta, her second parent, would be so proud. Easy to imagine her laugh. Finally, happened, huh. All the comments she'd made about them, the hinting, the refusing to let things drop, not informing Liara of what she might have said to Shepard when they'd spoken…and what would Benezia have said.

Shepard was the type of person her mother had warned her about. The person that would have Liara proving the stereotype and cliché of her race, doing intoxicants and attempting to have intercourse in seedy places. Even before this, because of Shepard, Liara had left her scholarly pursuits for a life of danger, and bloodshed as she'd never experienced before—had she not vowed, as she watched other asari her age take up mercenary work, to avoid such a path of violence? Then, there was the period of _after_. When Shepard had died, and instead of returning to the university or a dig site (things that would have not truly disappointed Benezia so much as puzzled her), she'd gone into information brokering. Something even dirtier than any of those archeologist sites had ever been. Spent time on Omega, to visit that person whose name she would rather not think about for her own teetering sanity. Blackmail and hiring mercs and using her money and power to…

Deal with Cerberus, a xenophobic group that cared little for anything beyond their own interests to hand them over body of her friend. While on Illium, a world that had always been disliked by the Matriarchs, she had blackmailed her way to the top of the information brokering world and was still paying the costs of that decision. Now on Thessia, the asari homeworld where she had been born and raised, beside a seedy Alliance bar, drunk and being groped by a human woman. Groping a human woman.

Who was staring downward at a dangerous trajectory, and Liara understood why Shepard had been so eager to dance with her.

On the other hand, hadn't her mother also encouraged her to go out more?

"How come we didn't do this years ago?"

This was not the woman that so recently had complained that she should be on a beach or boat, somewhere near the ocean, with a cocoanut full of rum in one hand. Where the_ other_ hand was supposed to be, the asari never had asked and only now truly wondered about. It could be on Liara, though. It could.

They had saved the galaxy. Why not let another miracle—a selfish thought.

Still, Shepard stared at her through the sweaty hair falling into eyes that had delightfully been focused on other parts of Liara's body besides her face. Holding hands now, somehow. Had the music stopped? Liara's butt had never felt lonely and jealous before.

"Can we go home now?"

* * *

She wondered what they looked like on the street together, with one all but skipping and the other trudging along, nervous. A couple, maybe one that had been together years and years. Thirty. Familiar enough to know every word before the other said it. Children and furniture collected, different dwellings shared, and novelty lost. Now they were headed back to their home, after a long night, and that was why the shorter human leaned on the asari that had to scold her for reasons Liara could not understand.

No wonder why they had never become lovers.

They had known each other for three years. Fives if you included the time Shepard had been dead. Yes, why not add that. Five years then. Her old friend that, when Liara had stupidly thrown away as OSD full of classified info that hadn't been duplicated, had been there to help dig in the dumpster. Side by side as they kicked aside old takeout that must have belonged to the asari. Might have been thrown out by Shepard herself when she stopped by to drag the Shadow Broker outside and would, embarrassingly, clean up the loft.

Every ounce of Shepard was against her.

"How come you're always like something out of a dream?" Wistful and romantic as Liara had always dreamed the woman could be. Then she started tugging at the asari's armor and backing her into a corner. Liara could have been attacked by the banshees just as she had when they'd first arrived, and still been happy. Just like she had been then, and for a similar reason. Though, then, Shepard had kept her attention on weapons rather than trying to find clasps.

Barely had time to reach for the door before the Commander was on her knees. Not vomiting either, Liara realized when hands tugged at her jacket. At her belt. Pressing her face. Right here, where others could see them.

Her neighbors, so many of whom worked at the university, knew old co-workers, gossiped, would look at her so judgmentally when she would leave her flat and they would meet in the hallway, clearly remembering the karaoke party Shepard had insisted on when the gang had last been together. Not forgiving or forgetting what had been done to the shared swimming pool. Now they could talk about T'soni and her obnoxious human lover, that supposed-savior Shepard engaging in oral sex right where anyone could see them. Someone would take footage.

Not for the first time, but with more intensity, Liara wondered if Shepard had taken many lovers. She had not, the asari thought with some fretting. And _knew_ now that no, she had not.

She was cursing, too loudly, over Liara's armor. "How do you get this off?"

"Shepard! Not here. No, keep your clothes on _as well_."

Coy, the stare was. "And here I thought you wanted to know all about me. Considering you asked to dissect me."

"Once! One time. Why do you insist on reminding me of that?"

"I love you."

There had been a dream she'd had a long time ago. In which Shepard confessed her adoration, respect, want. The human had stood there, humbled and wide-eyed, unbelieving that it was possible for her to have loved someone so much and for so long. 'It was always you. Forever.' Nearly crying, as Liara reached out to cup a cheek and rub circles in that pale skin. Together, and healing one another. I love you too.

Instead of all but pulling the Commander's face from her thighs. "We have to wait until you sober up. Now come inside before more people see us."

Jane let herself be pulled along and the door shut. Though, it was rather alarming when she reached out to lock it. The sound echoed. "That wasn't a no, right?"

How she wished the others were here. For once, to have their presence here rather than wanting to be alone with the spectre. They would know how to handle her. Or to slap the back of her head as Ashley, Jack, and Miranda threatened to do so many times before when she got wrapped up in something. Or shoot her with a shotgun, as Tali had offered, when perhaps Liara had let too much of her emotions show when a quiet dinner for two turned into an event as Shepard dragged along their friends. They had all been, in their own way, supportive of Liara and would encourage her to tell Jane of any feelings that went beyond friendship. Hadn't Jack, and her father, told her to just get drunk with the woman and tell her how felt? As Liara had denied and changed the subject.

The living room took on a sudden _seedy _look. Always anonymous but for prothean artifacts that she had brought from Nos Astra and the scatted cups and plates that she hadn't picked up. It could be a hotel room. This could be a high-priced room someone used for sex and only that. Clothes, not her own and that was now a louder accusation, left hanging off chairs and the back of her beige sofa. Why had she left Jane's shirt and occasional jacket there, and not in a neat stack for her to retrieve?

"No, Shepard, it wasn't."

"What?"

"It wasn't a no. Are you paying attention?"

Of course she wasn't—Shepard had already stopped paying attention and moved on after the rejection, why should she wait, why would she wait for Liara to come to her senses-

Liara was taller than Shepard, but there seemed to be too much of the Commander. She nearly knocked a tooth out on those shoulders, a desperate hug. Floored by the contact. Warmth. Not a desperate grab before the final fight they might not live to see, a lapse in judgment for a sign of affection. The smell of her hair and the feeling of it against her chin as Jane dug in. No, now she was moving her head too low, and Liara nearly had to physically grab her hands and then really did have to pry her chin away, flushed and light-headed at the expression on Shepard's face.

Carefully, serious, Jane took her face in her hands. A promise. "We're going to fuck like bunnies and fall asleep in that huge bed of yours like puppies."

The asari understood fifty percent of that, only Shepard's smile that could make spines and common decency disappear only in situations like this one. She should have tried this with the council. The Reapers.

Liara pushed back fallen hair. "We won't."

"Why not—because I'm not—"

"You are drunk. It would be taking advantage." All her courage pooled into her stomach, burning. "We will wait until you are sober to ever discuss this again."

So. Never.

For the best.

It was, no matter how something writhes and collapses in her chest. It _was._

"Fine." Shepard was all flustered pink cheeks and unsteady hands. "You just wait."

Then she began to undress.

"What are you _doing?"_

Seduction. It was a word that hardly entered her mind beyond it involving blackmail, but here it was. Ricocheting around her mind. Why had she spent so much time locked away in libraries? If she had been more forthcoming, with Shepard, with that charming asari girl that was one of the few to make eye contact with her even after her latest speech, on Nos Astra with someone, _anyone,_ Liara would know what to do. Besides reject the Commander by trying to yank clothes down and only, accidentally, ending up yanking Shepard's shirt off her. Then stand there stupidly, holding warm fabric, and unable to stop any of this.

Eventually, her mind must start to work again and would figure out a sensible way to end all of this. It would know exactly what to do once all those fantasies proved prophetic and she had Jane Shepard in her apartment, sans a shirt, boots, and finally pants.

"It's just hot is all."

They watched the goosebumps rise. Watched each other. Jane shivering, Liara all but panting. It _was_ hot. Goddess help her. Grey and clinging the fabric left to cover here was. Piebald tan and sculpted muscle, sinew and freckles and exposed moles and scars, _that_ was paler than she would have expected. Jane truly hadn't taken many lovers, and between the inexperience and alcohol, it was awkward, exposed.

It was lovely.

Liara had to back away.

Get away to check the temperature. Unnecessarily in terms of climate conditions, but needed to clear her head. Recapture her breath. Until she had to press herself awkwardly against a couch to see the thermostats settings, the pressure of where the edges sunk into her nearly undid Liara.

Shepard could come up behind her, silent as a ghost since surely she knew every creaking floorboard of this apartment already, slide clever hands beneath armor and webbing. Repeat again her love and desire while rocking Liara against her fingers. Teasing her. Biting her neck while bringing her so gently to the edge before kicking the asari off it. Before Liara could get her bearings, Shepard would shove her onto the couch with that easy strength. Sat atop her, looking down, observing her as she would a battlefield, something to be conquered. Gladly.

The easiest victory of Shepard's life.

There would be nothing between them. No more having to hold herself back and feign disinterest or look away. Not even hesitation to separate them, even momentarily. It would be. _Finally. _

Say it.

Yes, of course I love you Shepard, since we met and you so foolishly used a laser beam to rescue me, it has only been you, and never mind the comments you make about me and Feron. You are the devil, a goddess, please. Worship you.

Eventually, Liara realized after another few moments that no, she could look over her shoulder. There was no Shepard there to be caught. No one to see her awkwardly pressed and waiting. All in her mind, and the asari remembered her earlier idea of letting Jane sleep on the couch.

Instead of _Finally _with its crescendo_,_ Liara would find her half-nude and in the kitchen. Talented fingers finding something else to investigate, and how wasted they were on those shelves. "Coffee and water would help me sober up."

It would be insane to grab and shake Shepard by those shoulders that were so exposed and sunburned, somehow, and demand answers. 'Why-why did you not follow me!?'

_Finally,_ Liara retrieved a blanket to cover her with, and pretended not to be disappointed when Shepard took it without a complaint.

That shock of auburn hair that took on red and yellow in the right light was nearly dipping into her mug. One of her eyes had a twitch from this strong blend. A shower, though, and a nights rest, and Shepard would be back to normal. Or perhaps just more coffee might do the trick.

They got half-way through an entire pot before Liara gave up. Did what Jack would have described as calling it quits. Called, yelled, mumbled in exasperation..."Tomorrow morning. We'll both feel better then."

"Yeah. If we tried it now, we'd probably fall asleep. Especially if you told me again about that book you and Javik are writing."

Liara decided since she was already being the mature one, she would let it go. Count to ten, and let it go.

They would go out to eat tomorrow. Act normal in public. She will not press the point about any of the things Shepard had said. All these things were facts on a list Liara would follow.

"I suppose we can share the bed."

Until Jane was following her into the bedroom.

The sight of that. How had her life come to this? Seeing the flatness of her stomach, the muscles on Shepard and leading her into a bedroom? Having this sight actually exist, and then turning it away?

"You sure all you want is sleep?"

That _evil _grin.

"You have to get some rest. Sleep, Shepard. I'll—I'll just go to the couch, then. I _will_."

"Are you threatening me, Liara? The Savior of the Galaxy? The Stopper of the Cycle? Commander Jane Shepard?"

Tilting her head, eyes wide and impossible to look away from, and there was something scary about this person before her. _Wonderfully _scary in a way that made her simultaneously understand how others did not just put down their weapons and run away from Jane, and wonder how anyone could think to stand against this woman.

This woman that made Liara back up into the bed. Then nearly hyperventilate when realizing what she was sitting on. What had been against that part of her body earlier.

"No, Shepard."

"Do you have any idea what I could do to you?"

Liara could feel herself squirming. Notice the shrinking space between her thighs and then look desperately back up at Shepard's face. "I have biotics."

"Sounds fun."

"I will _leave_, Shepard."

Run away. To the Commander's house, to lock the doors and hide in the bedroom. Under the sheets. Under the bed. Barricade herself inside and find a shotgun that she knew must be somewhere inside Shepard's home. Loaded already, it would be.

From the grin on that face, she wouldn't make it to the front door, biotics or not.

Was this the same woman that had been in a hospital bed not long ago? Weeping. 'Where's the rest of me?' As outside fire still rained down. Begging, for relief, for release of pain. 'I can't, I can't.' The horror in her eyes. Asking for a priest and Liara, who had only compassion and pity. Had loved this hurt figure as she had the first day they had met and Shepard had let Liara slip into that mind as gleaming and beautiful as the armor she always wore.

Liara had loved her all the more when she faltered and wept.

Now she was drunk, and trying to make Liara's will crumble.

Did her eyes now scream? Going through the motions still? Before her adoring fans, a category to which Liara belonged to even now. Could this all be feigned in an attempted to be normal?

But Shepard was already looking around, touching everything. Messing up the piles of books.

"This is a nice place," she repeated as she did every time she was here. "I didn't even get to keep that apartment Anderson lent to me."

Jane did have a tendency to destroy things around her. Not necessarily her fault, but still it happened. Liara removed a pile of sensitive ODS from the bed.

"I'd like to share something like this. You know. With you."

Her smile was heartbreakingly. "I want to pick flowers for you and take you to eat—out to eat. Together. Properly. With tablecloths and silver and no one to gawk at us just because of our names." The green eyes darted away, momentarily. Suddenly younger, not a lean commanding woman who had saved the galaxy but a girl asking someone out. "Or because of what I'm doing to you under the table."

Liara ignored the last bit, as best she could. "We'll have that."

An apartment shared with the Commander. More than a ship, separated by floors and insecurities. A bed to spoon in under warm sheets. The chance to touch that red hair that fell perfectly to her shoulders. Years together, perhaps blue daughters in time, and complaints and worries and the blankly exciting thrill of knowing what she looked like naked and what they would do to one another, the secrets they would exchange as only lovers could.

She let Jane come to her.

Let Shepard push her aside.

"Are you going to change into pajamas? Something slinky and silky? Sheer? Or do you not wear any?" It she had not been laying there, eyes half shut, head propped up with one hand, Liara might have taken it seriously.

For all her leering, the Commander must surely have been tired.

It would have been a disaster to have slept together, in an intimate, sexual way. Jane would have fallen asleep during it and Liara would have _really_ have found it necessary to run away and barricade herself against Shepard. Worse than sputtering and making a fool of herself, constantly misunderstanding the Commander, if she had proved a disappointment to her friend.

"I think I'll stay like this." Though she did remove her jacket, and did her best to ignore a faint whistle behind her. Then had to position herself on the bed, and not jump as Jane shifted closer.

"What, you think someone's going to attack us? With me here? Actually, yeah, you might want to stay in something bulletproof. Dibs on the pillows. Oh, alright." Shepard settled for using her to rest her head on Liara's stomach. "I can hear it gurgling."

"Shush."

"…hope I don't vomit later. Is there a bucket around? Oh, it's okay, there's that ugly bowl. I can use that."

"That is a prothean figurine older than your entire race, Shepard."

"You sound like Javik."

"I'm not leaving anything out in the book I write about you," Liara warned.

"Fine. You'll hear from my lawyer when I sue you for libel."

They fell asleep like that.

* * *

She awoke to the sight of her closet doors, and needed a second to process what it was she was seeing. Unusually to see that rather than her trash can or the carpet that needed cleaning when she would fall unconscious at her desk and then slide painfully to the ground. Or wake to a dusty screen when her forehead would finally meet the keyboard. No magazine or book page stuck to her face as she regained senses and discovered her dead legs from beneath the coffee table.

Curled on her side, and grateful to wake up alone. It would be awkward enough to see Shepard again, after what had happened last night. They would forget it every happened. They must.

For the best. No matter how Liara suddenly wanted to never rise from this bed. Keep her eyes closed and remember. What could have happened, and what she had not allowed. For the long term. No matter how nice, how pleasurable or how many fantasies she'd had that could have never been lived up to but could have been attempted last night, Liara had done the sane thing. Shepard might even thank her for it. Or, perhaps out of her general kindness, would never speak of this again.

What was that smell?

Her face went blank at the sound of footsteps.

Mussed red hair. She looked fresher than Liara felt. Of course she did. There was breakfast. A thanks. They would eat together and Liara will not let her eyes wander over that body she had seen exposed earlier, wonder what could have been. Her friend, prone to bouts of bravery and luck, and who should never be allowed to get drunk ever again.

The Commander pressed toast and coffee and eggs at her. Beaming. "Good morning. Do you have any idea how complicated your kitchen is? It took forever just to make the toast. Make sure you eat up. You're going to need the energy."

Liara had time to take the full plate before hands were cupping her posterior again and pulling her all the more closer.

"I'm_ totally_ sober now!"


End file.
